


two things

by bloodyinspiredglader



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, John is a Bit Not Good, M/M, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Spoilers for The Six Thatchers, at all, neither of them are okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9153574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyinspiredglader/pseuds/bloodyinspiredglader
Summary: there were two things Sherlock Holmes knew at that moment.six thatchers fix it fic bc i doubt the lying detective will give us what we want





	1. pieces of us

There was two things Sherlock Holmes knew at that moment. One, Mary Watson was dead. She sacrificed herself for him. Two, John Watson was probably never going to forgive him for letting that happen. The news that John would rather see anyone else but him was a huge blow. It hurt Sherlock more than he'd care to admit- shattering what was left of his heart. He didn't think that anything would hurt more than seeing the man you're in love with get married to someone else, but he was wrong. The look of pure hatred on John's face as he spoke to Sherlock was enough.

And that was, somehow, how Sherlock ended up sitting across from John's therapist. Admitting to himself he needed help. He needed to put aside his ego for one minute and fix things with John. He couldn't do this without him. He couldn't face this alone. If Moriarty truly was back, he wanted John by his side. And only John. Not Mycroft, not Lestrade, not Molly. John. 

"I still don't know why you're here, Sherlock. I can't help you if you don't open yourself up to me."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly the best at that. Look, I just need to know what to do about John."

"He's in shock. There's a good chance he doesn't know what he's saying. But there's always the chance that he does and he truly doesn't want to see you. Either way, Sherlock, you've got to talk to him."

"What? And tell him that I'm gay and have been in love with him since day one? How do you think he'd react to that? Hardly very well, I'd imagine." Sherlock was growing aggravated, shaking his head. These were his inner thoughts. No one should be allowed to know them. No matter if they could help him. 

"John has a right to know. He truly cares about you. Even if he doesn't always show it. Neither of you are great at expressing feelings. but I'm afraid that's all I have time for today, Mr. Holmes. I don't expect to see you back, unless you're really interested in seeing me again."

"I'll consider it." Sherlock said in a flat voice, standing up and wrapping his coat tighter around himself and leaving.


	2. that i just can't let go

Instead of dwelling on John's apparent hate, Sherlock threw himself into cases. Trying to distract himself without resorting to drugs. It was odd not having John there, but he made do on his own. For a while, it seemed to work. That was until everything came to a screeching halt. 

The eerily familiar tune of 'Stayin Alive' floated through the flat. Sherlock completely froze before shaking himself and going to look out the window. Everyone had stopped their daily activities. to look. The speakers that would normally only be used for alarms were playing James Moriarty's song. 

"Sherlock? Tell me you have some explanation for this." Lestrade said, making his way into the flat. The detective inspector made a habit of coming in without asking. Almost like he thought he lived there.

"Moriarty's dead. Probably just a follower playing some trick. I really don't think we have anything to worry about." Even as he said it, Sherlock was trying to convince himself that he was right. And Lestrade didn't seem very convinced, for that matter. 

"So you keep saying." Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "Mycroft has a message to pass on to you. He wants you to meet him. You know where."

 

"What's so important that you sent Lestrade instead of telling me yourself?" Sherlock demanded. Mycroft wasn't quite himself, he knew that right away. There was a weariness in his actions, one that wasn't usually there. 

"There's someone you would like to meet." Mycroft snapped his fingers, and a stepped forward.

Sherlock felt his eyes widen of their own accord. The man standing in front of him should not be there. There was so many things that could've happened to him, running away at such a young age. He shouldn't be alive. But yet, here he was. Black haired, lanky, and shifting awkwardly.

Sherrinford Holmes. Sherlock and Mycroft's younger brother. The one assumed to be dead years ago. "Sherrinford?" Sherlock questioned, testing his words. There was so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to. What _could_ he say?

"Sherlock. I think we've got some catching up to do, brother."

"I should think so." Sherlock muttered. Mycroft knew Sherrinford was alive. Perhaps he'd known for a while. And he hadn't thought to tell him.

 

So, Sherrinford explained everything. He had run away from home and sleep gotten lost. He found his way to an abandoned house, taking up refuge there until he was found by Scotland Yard, miles from home. A few people from Scotland Yard took him home and fed him, bathed him, and nursed him to health. When he was 18, they let him go. The first thing he did was go back home, looking for Mycroft. All he was found was disappointment and his parents. To his relief, they contacted Mycroft, who was ecstatic to see him alive. It had a mutual agreement not to tell Sherlock.

"And that's the story, I guess. What have you been up to?" Sherrinford finished his story and asked.

"Oh, just getting my heart broken by the man I'm in love with. All in a day's work." Sherlock said, a bitter edge to his voice. While Sherrinford fucked around with his easy life, he and John were out there, putting their asses on the line for London.

"Sherlock... Are you gay?" Sherrinford blinked a few times, digesting this new information.

"Yes. I completely understand if you don't accept that, I expect that by now." 

"No, I don't care. I might be too, I'm still questioning." Sherrinford offered a smile.

"Huh. What are the chances of every brother being queer?" Sherlock mused, looking over at Mycroft, waiting for the argument he knew wasn't coming. 

"Mycroft? You too?"

"Indeed, brother mine. But enough about us. Sherrinford has information you might find useful, Sherlock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know next to nothing about sherrinford so obviously this wasn't in character. and colin morgan is rumored to be playing him, so just imagine him. or tom hiddleston. whatever floats your boat.


	3. can you even hear me?

"So... let me get this straight. Moriarty is alive and he's working with a man called Culverton Smith. And he's going to come after John and I?" Sherlock questioned, eyeing Sherrinford carefully. 

"Yep, that's about it." Sherrinford nodded.

Sherlock clenched his fist, standing up suddenly. He wasn't letting Moriarty get to John. John was a father. He had a baby to take care of. If Sherlock died... then, well, no one would care. He wouldn't be missed. Sherlock made a vow to protect the both of them. He had already failed one of them, but failing John was not an option. "Thank you. Sherrinford, it was nice to see you again. I'm afraid I can't stay any longer, I have buisness to attend to." He said, making his way out of the room and grabbing a cab. As he was leaving, his phone dinged in his pocket and he grabbed it, opening it to read the message.

**Hello, Sherlock Holmes. - JM**

**Don't you dare touch John. - SH**

**Touch John Watson? I wouldn't dare - JM**

Sherlock's hand clenched around his phone and as soon as he got to John's house, he found the entrance guarded by men armed with guns. "Let him through." An unfamiliar voice said from within the house and the men moved aside, allowing him access. He raced in, stopping in tracks at the sight. John had a gun pointed at his head and he was trembling all over. Rose was crying, and no one was doing anything to comfort her. 

 

“Don't try anything, Mr. Holmes.” A short man stepped forward. The same man who had spoken before. “Hello. I'm glad to finally meet you. I'm Culverton Smith.” He smirked. 

 

“Oh, it's you. You're the man who Sherrinford warned me about.” 

 

“Ah, good old Sherrinford. If only he was like you and knew better than to stick his nose into business that didn't involve him.” Culverton mused. 

 

“Leave Sherrinford out of this. Moriarty promised he wouldn't touch John.” 

 

“And you really thought I was telling the truth?” A voice floated out from inside the house. Before anything else was said, ‘Stayin Alive’ started playing and the Napoleon of crime stepped out of the shadows. “Did you miss me?” He paused the song and came over to Sherlock.

 

“Moriarty. Leave John out of this. Leave Rosie out of this. She's only a kid, for god’s sake!” Sherlock snapped.

 

“Anyone who interferes is automatically a target, I'm afraid.” Moriarty replied, an extremely irritating tone to his voice. He acted like he knew everything. “Surely you'd have figured that out by now, being the genius detective that you are.”

 

“I never knew you'd stoop so low as to put a child in danger.” Sherlock retorted.

 

“Don't tell me you've grown to care for the stupid thing.” Moriarty said, sounding dumbfounded. 

 

“I made a vow to protect the Watson family. Under any circumstances. As far as I'm concerned, as long as I'm still breathing, no harm will come to John and Rose Watson.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw John give him a little smile. ‘I forgive you’ it said. Spurred on by that, Sherlock continued speaking. “Even if that means unnecessary bloodshed.” 

 

To Sherlock's surprise, Moriarty burst out in laughter. “Oh, Sherlock. You amuse me sometimes. Don't you understand? You're powerless. Completely and utterly powerless. You don't stand a chance.” 

 

“Oh, don't I?” Pulling out his last resort, Sherlock took a shot in the dark. “Vatican cameos!” He shouted. Immediately, John gave the man holding a gun to his head a sharp hit into the crotch, causing him to drop his gun. 

 

“Grab that gun!” 

 

Sherlock picked the gun up, turning around to face Moriarty and Culverton while John took care of the man. Within a few seconds, the doctor was by his side, his own gun in his hand. “Care to reconsider?” 

 

Even then, Moriarty had a smug grin on his face. And that was never a good sign. 

 

Sherlock turned to whisper to John quickly. “Go get Rose.” John gratefully took the suggestion, going over to his daughter and scooping her up. He rocked her, quieting her down. “You want to lay a finger on them? I'd suggest you don't try. Unless you want your brains splattered all over the walls.” He said, getting a tighter grip on his gun.

 

Moriarty made one of those fake looks of terror before collapsing into a fit of laughter. “You're so naive in thinking you stand a chance against us.” Just as he spoke, red dots appeared on John and Rose’s forehead. “If you know what's best for you and your friend, I'd drop that gun.”


	4. love ain't easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest fic i've ever written. i never get over 1k words so 1.7k+ is a stretch. appreciate that you guys

Losing whatever hope he had left, Sherlock set his gun down. Of course Moriarty had his snipers. He should have thought this through a little more before he went rushing in. "Good, Sherlock. Good. Recognizing when you stand no chance." Moriarty taunted. 

"I still can't believe you'd hurt a child for your own selfish purposes. You're a psychopath. A true, cold-blooded, psychopath." Sherlock muttered. This wasn't a one of times he would add something about being a high-functioning sociopath. There was a time and place for that, and this wasn't it.

"You're just now figuring this out? You’ve got a lot to learn, my dear Sherlock. Grab them.” Moriarty ordered and before Sherlock could so much as lift a finger, he and John were in the arms of two of the men. He knew he should’ve fought to get out, but he didn’t. The men had strong arms and were holding him so tightly he almost forgot that he had to breathe. “Give the baby to the hostage.” Rose was torn out of John’s arms and handed to a trembling lady. The sight of her made Sherlock sick. Molly Hooper was being held hostage by Jim Moriarty. And by the look of her, she wasn’t being treated very well. That made Sherlock’s blood boil and the strength returned to him as he stomped on the man’s foot and turned around to give him a good elbow in the face. He plucked the gun off the ground, pointing it at the man and panting.

“Sherlock… please. Put the gun down. Stop fighting. It’s not worth it.” John got out before one of the guards silenced him. Just the tremor in John’s voice, the fear and agony, was enough to make Sherlock obey him. He dropped the gun once more, getting on his knees and putting his hands up in the air.

“Aww, how sweet is that?” Moriarty purred. “He listens to you but he doesn’t listen to me. Why am I not surprised? Are you done, Sherlock? Done fighting me? We both know no good comes out of that.” he teased.

“You can break my soul, take my life away, beat me, hurt me, kill me. But for the love of God, don't touch them.” Sherlock murmured, repeating the words he knew so well. They had just came flooding out. He couldn’t stop them. He was showing weakness, something he couldn’t possibly show in front of Moriarty.

“That’s adorable. That’s absolutely adorable. It’s too bad you didn’t come up with that quote. It would’ve seemed so much more… authentic, you know what I mean?” Moriarty said. “I’m afraid that I can’t do that, Sherlock. They’re interfering with my plan. And you and I both know very well what happens when people try to interfere.”

“You burn the heart out of them.”

“I burn the heart out of them.” Moriarty said at the exact same time as Sherlock did. “Very good! You’re learning quickly. I’m proud of you.”

At that moment, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to put a few rounds into the psychopath. But he remembered the threat of John and Rose being hurt and the flame inside him died as quickly as it had been kindled. No, he wouldn’t risk their lives. He couldn’t.

“You see, Mr. Holmes, this is a good reason to ignore those feelings. Love, hatred, sadness, all very strong emotions. All they do are weaken you. Sociopaths aren’t supposed to feel love. But yet… you fell in love with someone you can’t have.” Culverton said, knowing he hit Sherlock’s weak spot. His love for John Watson. The love that would never be requited. “You’re in love, although you’d never let yourself admit it. The great Sherlock Holmes. Self-admitted sociopath. Supposedly emotionless. How does that add up?”

“No… stop it.” Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to calm himself down before he did something rash. Last time he panicked and shot Magnussen. Or at least that’s what he saw, not what the general public is not going to see. “That’s my business and only mine. Stop poking your nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

“‘Where it doesn’t belong’? On the contrary, I think I should be able to exploit whatever weakness I can, don’t you? Don’t answer that.” Moriarty said, that devilish grin back on his face. “Give in to your feelings, Sherlock.” with that, he waved his hand and more people came forward, carrying syringes. “I do believe that’s enough talk.” before either of them could do anything, there was a sharp pain in his shoulder and everything grew dizzy. He felt himself hit the floor before everything went completely black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops cliffhanger!!!!


	5. it is what it is

“Did you kill him? I specifically told you to get the non-lethal drug!” There was a sharp kick in Sherlock’s side. He opened his eyes, almost immediately closing them again as the lights nearly blinded him. He scrambled up onto his feet, having to grab onto the wall for balance. Whatever they had injected him with was really toying with his motor controls. Clearly that was intentional. Moriarty would do whatever he could do to make the genius look stupid. Make it harder for him to think, make it harder for him to deduce. And it was working. Sherlock’s mind was full of fog and he couldn’t make sense of anything. But there was one thing he was absolutely sure of.

“Where’s John?”

“Oh, Sherlock! Welcome back to the mortal world!” Moriarty exclaimed, seeing that Sherlock was awake. “Don’t worry, we haven’t hurt a hair on your dear doctor’s head. We wouldn’t dream of it.” he raised his hand to snap his fingers and Sherlock noticed something he hadn’t before. The glint of a ring- a wedding ring, at that. Huh. Within those two years that he was missing, Moriarty had gotten married. “Sebastian, bring him in.” he commanded. One of Moriarty’s men dragged in John. again, Sherlock noticed the ring. A ring identical to one on Moriarty’s finger. So that was who he was married to. His sniper.

“So, how is married life?” Sherlock asked, a casual tone to his voice, as if he wasn’t scared for his and John’s safety. 

“Oh, it’s great. Having a husband who is also your best sniper has a lot of benefits. Not that you’d know what having a husband is like.” Moriarty taunted. Sherlock felt something between anger and sadness rip through his body. No, he wouldn’t know what that’s like. The only person he’s ever had any desire to be with is straight and would never be able to fall in love with him. “Oh, did I strike a sore spot? I’m sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up. It's none of your business.” Sherlock snapped, his voice venomous. He wasn't about to reveal anything else he didn't want to. 

“Oooh, feisty, isn’t he?” Moriarty purred. “Sebastian, bring the other two in.” he snapped. As soon as the command was issued, the sniper walked out of the room and came back in, dragging Sherrinford and Mycroft with him. “Now, get them in the room.” A pair of strong hands grabbed Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and Sherrinford and forced them into a dark room. The lights came on and Sherlock could see that there was nothing in sight. Just a gray room. And he was facing a mirror. He was put right in front of it, with John on his left and Mycroft on his right, a little ways back. A gun was forcefully shoved into his hands and he knew automatically what he was going to have to do.

“Well, Sherlock? Who will it be?” Moriarty teased. “John Watson, your trusted friend and partner, or Mycroft, your loving brother?” Sherlock buried his face into his hands, feeling panic rising inside him. No. There was no way he would be able to choose. So, as opposed to choosing either of them, he raised the barrel of the gun to his own head. 

“I’m not going to kill either of them.” Sherlock took a deep breath and steadied his finger on the trigger, ready to fire. Before he could, however, John was wrestling the gun away from him.

“Sherlock, no.” John whispered, throwing the gun to Sherrinford, who stashed it away in his pocket. “I’m not losing you again. I can’t. You don’t understand what that would do to me.” his voice broke on the last sentence and he stopped speaking. He couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

Sherlock looked directly at himself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. This was his last chance. If they were both going to die, then at least he was able to say this. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well
> 
> can we just pretend that the lying detective ended happy? and can we ignore eurus, please? just... i'm upset and i knew the lying detective wouldn't give us the ending we wanted
> 
> if you want to scream with me, come and talk to me on my tumblr: voidgallavich.tumblr.com


End file.
